


Gib Mir Mehr (Komm, Fütter' Mich)

by ChristophKruspe



Series: Mehr [1]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Kink, Come Eating, M/M, Teasing, Tight Clothing, Weight Gain, calorie kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristophKruspe/pseuds/ChristophKruspe
Summary: Richard faces a deliciously embarrassing consequence of his indulgences. Schneider is all too happy to help him out.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Christoph Schneider
Series: Mehr [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593733
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Gib Mir Mehr (Komm, Fütter' Mich)

**Author's Note:**

> This is kink fic. Please click away if mentions of counting calories or weight talk will upset you.  
> Inspired by Richard's little belly and love handles during some of the LIFAD tour and the Made in Germany tour. The outfit is from the LIFAD tour.

‘ _Ach, mist_!’

He should have known it was only a matter of time.

Richard tugged at the flaps, already knowing he wasn’t going to be able to get them close enough to button. He didn’t have any others, its not like he warned the designers that this would probably happen, so he knew he only had one choice: Call someone and ask for help. A smoulder, an ember of embarrassment, coiled in his stomach at the thought.

He really wasn’t sure why it had surprised him, given how tight they were only a few days before and knowing how much he had eaten since then. Part of him wondered if it had been intentional, subconscious: he would give just about anything to have a man’s hands on him lately. Doubly so since the man he would have to call was Christoph Schneider.

On any other day, Richard would have called Till. They had been best friends, brothers, colleagues, and even occasionally lovers, for three decades, and Richard knew he could trust Till with anything. Some would therefore call it unfortunate that Till was already at the venue, worried as he was about a pyrotechnical problem that had severely burned his arm a week earlier at their last show. He had to choose someone else. That or go out on stage unbuttoned, a common fantasy of his but not a wise decision in practice.

Paul would mock him endlessly, and wasn’t strong or tall enough to do much good anyway. Flake wouldn’t care but would probably break a wrist trying, and Ollie would spook like deer if he asked him to do something so personal. It had to be Christoph. Truthfully, he _wanted_ it to be Christoph— he wouldn’t be cruel, but he would poke fun and probably make a few remarks or offers to work out together. He was much stronger than he looked, and taller than Richard, which should work in their favour. He was gorgeous, and skinny enough to make Richard feel huge by comparison. And Christoph wouldn’t be disgusted, that was the most important part. He would feel like a creep if it wasn’t for the fact they still occasionally made out at parties. Only when tipsy, only when they could blame it on something else the next day, but it was rare that they wouldn’t seek each other out at some stage for a kiss and some medium-petting. He really didn’t think Schneider would mind if he knew Richard was going to get a little extra out of it.

He took a grounding breath and dialled.

‘Hey Chris? Yeah its me, I need your help with something… uhh it’s a little embarrassing.’

~~

Schneider told Richard he would be ten minutes or so, since he needed to get ready too. Richard, suddenly a bundle of nerves, did all he could think to do: he ate. A box of fancy chocolates had been gifted to him just that day, and he didn’t intend to waste them. Or share them, for that matter. The first few weren’t enough to calm him, so he started stuffing a couple in at a time. He kept gorging until the top tray was empty, and then started then next after only a quick pause to swallow. He could feel chocolate melting on his fingers and smearing sticky prints on his face but he couldn't find it in himself to care: The taste was comforting, and, after reading the nutritional information printed on the box, counting the calories on his phone’s calculator was proving to be a brilliant distraction technique, for his mind if not his body. His nerves were replacing themselves with excitement, and he just had to hope that excitement would stay an ember in his belly until _after_ the show.

There was a knock at the door

‘ _S_ _chei_ _ẞ_ _e_ _!’_ he whispered.

He choked down his barely-chewed chocolates and just had time to wipe his mouth and hands on the T shirt he had worn from the hotel when Schneider walked in.

‘Hey, Risch, what’s the problem? What could be so embarrassing that you wouldn’t just ask Paul to help? Not that i’m not happy to.’

He didnt even say anything, just turned to fully face Schneider and gestured to his body in a grand, almost-sweeping motion.

‘Richard, you know me. You expect me to be able to work it out via mime? It's the same outfit you wore last show.’

Richard rolled his shoulders: the anticipation was making him tense.

‘My stage outfit, the pants. For some reason they er… won’t button?’

Schneider surveyed him closer and with greater care now he knew what he was looking for. Richard tried to pull the trousers higher, but if anything he knew that would make them harder to do up. Wasn’t that the point, though? He poked Richard’s belly where it peeked out from under his waistcoat; The button was puckering slightly and the sides, already cut high, were raising further up his generous hips than intended, but there was nothing they could do about that. It still fit, just about. Schneider huffed a small laugh as his finger sank in, ‘Oh, I wonder why. It couldn't possibly be this now, could it?’

Richard sucked in his belly, though it barely had an effect, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Come on, _Freundchen_ , we both know you’re getting a little chunky. There’s nothing wrong with that! I’m guessing you want me to help you fasten them?’

‘I am not getting “chunky”!’ He replied with mock indignation and a pair of air quotes.

He leaned back against the vanity, grabbed another chocolate, and put it in his mouth without even thinking.

‘Richard, do you realise you’re still eating?’ Schneider looked genuinely surprised, ‘I can see very clearly that you’re still eating, isn’t that what got you into this predicament?’ Schneider paused before continuing, ‘You know, usually we all _lose_ weight on tour.’ Richard froze for a second, trying his hardest not to sound like he was blushing.

‘What, like one chocolate is going to make any difference?’ He brushed a hand down the front of his waistcoat and then turned to get another chocolate.

‘It isn’t _one_ chocolate though, is it? Its,’ Schneider walked closer and counted the empty spaces in the box, ‘five chocolates, pretty big ones. Ooh what is that, caramel?’ He picked one up and popped it into his mouth. Richard didn’t bother hiding his indignant facial expression, and Schneider smirked.

‘Fifteen, there was another layer...’ Was Richards hushed reply. Schneider caught it, which he knew he would. He expected admonishment, some ribbing over his gluttony, something juicy he could store away and jerk off to later. What he did not expect was silence. He swallowed his mouthful, but before he could turn around to see what was the matter, he was being crowded against the vanity. He looked up into the mirror they were facing, at Schneider’s unreadable face, into his pale eyes. His pupils were wide in the dimmed room, but still sharp enough to send a thrill up Richard’s spine. That was _definitely_ something to keep for later.

Two arms snaked around his sides to grab the flaps of his trousers, so Richard straightened a little and let Schneider try without sucking in: The effect was far more obvious that way and he wanted to make the most of this.

‘I knew they were getting tight on you but how the fuck did you manage to get these on last time? It was only, what, a week ago?’

‘Hey, you did point out that I was just eating. It’s fine, I’m just a little bloated, that’s all.’ He tried to look innocent, but it’s hard to convince someone you havent gained weight when their hands are all over chub that was definitely not there a few months ago. The realisation that Schneider’s thumbs, as he tugged on the trouser flaps, sank an inch into his pale belly shot another bolt of arousal through him, leaving him almost light-headed. He bent over a little more and rested his hands flat on the table, which made the problem worse but would hopefully shadow the erection growing more obvious in the tight pants by the second. He reached over to the box for another chocolate without even thinking.

‘Risch, do you have any idea how many calories are in those things? You must have eaten a couple hundred. It’s. Not. Helping!’ He punctuated with soft pats on the side of his belly. It was firm and round, but there was a layer of plush fat that jiggled as he did so. Richard held his breath and swallowed down the moan threatening to bloom.

‘61 on average per chocolate so 915?’ A pause, a harsh exhale, ‘er… Ish?’

‘...Risch, why do you know that? You’re awful at maths.’ Was it his ears or had Schneider’s voice darkened?

‘Fuck off, I was totalling on my phone earli—‘ He stopped abruptly, suddenly aware that he was meant to be smart enough not to admit to something like that.

Schneider brought his eyebrows together in some kind of confusion for a moment, but when he looked again at Richard’s flushed face it was clear he understood, at least partly. As if to highlight the thought, Schneider’s piercing eyes shifted south.

‘Richard are you… oh. That’s, yeah, this explains a lot actually,’ Schneider’s hand rose off his belly, hovered for a moment, and then trailed south towards Richard’s crotch

‘Chris what are you— you don’t have to do that, its not why I asked you to come help, I promise.’

‘These pants are tight enough as they are, I don't think you have much choice if you want to wear them for the show tonight. Besides, your guitar sits low, but I think fans would still get an eyeful if you happened to start, I don’t know, noticing how much this shirt rides up over your _love handles_ ,’ he emphasised with a squeeze, ‘when you move around.’ Schneider ran his hand back around to cup the fullest part of his belly, rubbing his thumb lightly over the buttons, ‘Better to take some of the wind out of your sails, ja?’

‘I—I can take care of it if you give me a few minutes? You really don’t have to—‘ Richard stopped, eye widening, as Schneider used the hand still resting on his belly to pull him flush against him, hips fitting to hips. The hard cock pressing into his ass was impossible to mistake for anything else.

‘ _Nee_ , no. Please, Risch, let me do this for you. You have no idea how long I've wanted this.’

He waited until Richard nodded, instantly enthusiastic now he knew they were both on the same page.

‘Thank god, I was worried I’d have to play with a semi all night again!’ He eased Richard’s trousers off far enough that his cock, at least, was free: the waistband bit into his thick thighs, just another reminder of what he had done to himself. The contact was so delicious that he didn’t register the remark fully for almost a minute,

‘You had to do what?!’

‘You’ve been distracting me for weeks now, all these _obscene_ stage outfits,’ Schneider breathed into his ear, one callused hand stroking his dick and the other moving up to cup Richards squishy pec. He knew Richard couldn’t handle pain, so instead of pinching the nipple like he wanted to he just caressed, drawing attention to the plush fat that replaced his once-sizeable chest muscles. ‘I tried not to look but apparently our stage is the one place you feel inclined to take exercise. Watching your shirt tighten and ride up to reveal more and more pale skin as the tour has gone on has been creating a lot of _problems_ for me.’ He rocked his hips, pressed his clothed bulge into the softness of Richard’s ass. His hand never wavered, though.

‘God, Chris, if I had known we could have done this ages ago.’

‘I don’t think it would have worked out, since I didn’t know you were into it either. I spent all that time feeling like a pervert, ogling one of my closest friends because he got chubby. I thought you, like most people, would have been feeling bad about it.’ Richard snorted at the idea, so completely off-base.

‘I guess you couldn’t really have walked up and said “Hey Risch, I noticed you gained a few kay-gees. It’s hot, lets fuck”. I would have said yes, but I suppose most people would be upset...’

Schneider buried his ridiculous giggle in Richard’s shoulder. His hand sped up.

‘How many kilos, exactly?’ Richard felt his heart skip, his breath almost a hiss. Finally, a person who understood what he needed.

‘Ah, s-seven, as of last week.’ Schneider just hummed, so Richard took a chance at stepping things up a bit. He took his hands off the counter and ran a finger over the angry red marks the too-tight fabric had made, ‘That was back when these still buttoned though, it has to be more by now...’

Schneider let go, and a wave of abandonment and anxiety hit Richard full force: maybe he had said something wrong? It was dulled almost instantly when Schneider flipped him over, sat him on top of the vanity, only spurred on as it creaked, and caught Richard’s lips with his own. Richard tried to wrap his legs around Schneider and pull him in, but his trousers were way too tight for that. Still, Schneider tasted like coffee and desperation and Richard devoured him the way he had a lot of things over the past few weeks.

His hands went straight to cupping Schneider's face, pressing them even more insistently together. Schneider couldn’t seem to decide on what he wanted to touch first. Dick momentarily forgotten, he worked on probing every inch of skin, every pound of fat, that had tormented him over the past few weeks: yep, he was definitely bigger. When his hands had finally settled on his hips, Richard took the opportunity to deepen their kiss, making Schneider grab on reflexively, as hard as he'd hoped he would. That should leave some pretty bruises, something for hardcore fans to conspire over on their little blogs when his shirt inevitably rode up. Not that he ever looked at those blogs, of course.

‘Chris, please touch me. We don’t have that much time, we can take it slower later if you want to make this a thing.’

He didn’t have to be asked twice. His hand found Richard’s cock and started jerking with impeccable rhythm. He nibbled at the double chin Richard hadn’t even realised was there, and something about knowing Christoph had been watching him grow and had noticed the change catapulted him straight into his orgasm. He didn't even moan or cry out; he was far too gone to do more than whine. Somehow, luckily, the mess was contained to Schneider’s hand. Schneider inspected it curiously for a moment, then looked wild-eyed at Richard.

‘Clean my hand up, Risch.’

‘Of course, Schnei, wouldn’t want it to go to waste.’

He got to work right away, hoping to catch most of it before it cooled. He licked his cum from Schneider’s palm, tonguing between each finger thoroughly, and sucked what was left off his fingers one by one.

‘Still hungry?’ Richard only nodded. Schneider grabbed his hips and pulled him carefully off the desk, aware of how small Richard’s current range of movement was. After a few seconds of consideration, he pulled Richard’s skin-tight trousers down, inside out, to just above the knees. Richard shot him a look of complete confusion, but didn’t move to fix it.

‘There is no way you could kneel with them any other way but off, unless you wanted to pop the seams?’ A visible shiver ran through Richard at the thought, and Schneider was almost painfully hard in his cargo pants.

‘Can you, er… ugh, can you help me kneel please? I don’t want to fall over, it’s not very sexy.’

‘Oh right yeah, of course. Here, grab my hands and i’ll help lower you.’

Richard’s face was flushed pink, though whether it was through embarrassment or excitement was impossible to determine.

The folded pants cushioned his kneel nicely, and he was able to comfortably get into position. He made short work of undoing the fastenings to reveal Schneider’s delicate cock. Like the rest of the man, there was something vaguely feminine about it.

‘God, Christoph, even your cock is pretty. Can I?’ He made his intentions clear by leaning in to lightly mouthe the shaft, hands resting calm around Schneider’s knees.

Schneider answered by grabbing his dick and carefully guiding it between Richard’s lips. He moaned around it, glad to have his mouth full and eager to return the favour. He didn’t take the time to savour it, dizzy with the idea of their cum mixing together in his bloated stomach. Plus, he would need to spend a while fixing his hair, if Schneider was as handsy sober as he was drunk.

Instead, he concentrated on sucking as hard and fast as he could, using all of his tricks to get his new lover off as quickly as possible. One hand was holding the base of his cock still and the other was wrapped around his knee for balance, but he shuffled and repositioned his arms until he knew Schneider could get a good birds-eye view of his softened body. He slowed for a moment to stretch his jaw and made eye contact with Schneider: he looked _wrecked_. His make up was starting to smear from the sweat, and they were both going to be glad that his signature look was dirty and hidden behind a drum kit when it was time to go. Richard redoubled his efforts, somehow starving as well as pushed for time.

Schneider tapped Richard’s head to warn him, and then he was there, spurts of salty cum filling his mouth to bursting. He swallowed it all down and spent a few moments making sure he licked every morsel from Schneider’s softening dick.

‘That’s probably clean enough, Risch,’ Schneider said with a post-coital giggle.

‘I didn’t want to waste it, there are ten calories in a teaspoon of semen...’

‘And a lot of protein. Hey, you can pretend you've eaten healthy for once!’

Richard shoved him playfully and then grabbed his arms to pull himself into a standing position. It took them both a minute or two to get Richard’s trousers back up over his round ass. There was some undignified jumping, which Schneider seemed quite taken by. Richard tried and, of course, failed to button them closed.

‘So, seriously, what are we going to do about my _situation_?’

‘Oh that’s easy!’ Schneider manifested a hair tie from somewhere and proceeded to loop it onto the button, thread it through the hole, and loop it back over the button. ‘That will be good enough for tonight at least, you can sort out some new ones after the show.’

Next, Schneider threaded Richards belts onto his trousers, making sure the thickest one was high and tight enough to take some strain off the hair tie and cover it at the same time. It made Richard’s belly even more prominent, but neither man saw that as a bad thing. Let fans and journos write whatever they wanted about his weight gain—they would just save it for jerk off material and share it with each other (and possibly even use it as foreplay). The thigh-belts were snug, but not uncomfortable.

‘Do you, uh, do you want to help me out with that? I’m not sure what size I need, I don’t think I could get an accurate tape measurement alone...’

Schneider grinned, devilishly pretty.

**Author's Note:**

> /Feed/back would be nice but I'm too cowardly to post off anon so I understand that you might not want to kudos or comment logged in. No hard feelings. Well no, this is porn, hopefully some hard feelings.


End file.
